


When Things Collide

by Gracie_Girl87



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracie_Girl87/pseuds/Gracie_Girl87
Summary: Simmons has a thing for Lt. Katie Jensen. Due to their working relationship, it's impossible for Dick to express how he feels about her. In an attempt to build a better working relationship between them, Simmons offers to give Jensen pointers for her Warthog driving exam. If anything, it just puts more of a spark between them... literally. (Takes place at the beginning of Season 13).





	When Things Collide

**Scene:** (Some time during Season 13 ep. 2) Lopez, Donut and Simmons are running the Armonia Armory. Earlier in the episode, Grif is looking everywhere for Vanessa Kimball. Once found, he complains about how unfair it is that he doesn’t get second helpings in the mess hall. Frustrated with his attitude, she condemns him to dish duty. Back at the armory, the long line of soldiers is now dying down. 

 

Simmons hands an assault rifle to a Chorus soldier and sends them on their way. Proud of his work, he finishes the paper work and files it in a drawer. With an enthusiastic grunt, he picks up a crate of papers that need filing.

“That’s the last of them for now. Which one of you wants to help me alphabetize?”

Lopez places a different crate down with a thud and turns to Simmons.

“NECESITO RECARGAR. HAZLO TU MISMO. [I NEED TO RECHARGE. DO IT YOURSELF.]”

Turning quickly on his heel with a great big smile, Donut points up in the air with an idea as if he had a light bulb floating above his head.

“You’re right Lopez! You _do_ need a good polish!”

“DEJA DE HABLAR POR MI. [STOP SPEAKING FOR ME.]”

“Great idea, buddy! I’ve got just the stuff. I’ll go get the bottle.”

“PARA! [STOP IT!]”

“I can’t wait to get into every one of your dirty little crevices!”

“MIERDA! [SHIT!]”

“Oh don’t worry, Lopez. I’ll be gentle.”

“OH DIOS! [OH GOD!]”

Lopez exits the armory with Donut chasing close behind him. Watching them until they’ve gone, Simmons shrugs and carries the crate to some nearby filing towers. He hums to himself, happy to be doing this sort of work. Giving a heavy sigh of relief, he looks about the empty room,

“Well, at least I can work in peace and quiet.”

With the words just barely leaving his mouth, Grif turns the corner lazily strolling into the armory.

“‘Sup losers?!?”

“Dammit. Why do I always say these things too soon?” Simmons muttered to himself.

“Is it just you? Where’s Lopez and Donut?”

“Something about getting into Lopez’s dirty crevices?”

“What?”

“I dunno. What are you doing here?”

Grif walks over to where Simmons is filing and throws an arm on top of one of the filing towers. He leaned onto it heavily, physically displaying his level of boredom.

“After dish duty, Sarge told me come down here and ‘Help’.” He said throwing up air quotes.

“Oh! Well, if you’d like, I’m alphabetizing these files here and then I’ll be taking inventory on-”

“PHHT! BOORRRING! How’s about I take my twenty minute break?”

“Wait. What? But you just got here.”

“Gee Simmons! I don’t think I like your attitude! As a Captain, I’ll be taking _your_ twenty minute break as well.”

 Grif leaves with a pep in his step turning down the hall. Simmons yells after him,

“We’re _both_ Captains!”

With no response from Grif, Simmons quietly growls to himself,

 “Idiot.”

Simmons shakes his head and sighs, then returns to his filing. A short time passes when he hears,

“Excuse me! Is anybody here?”

Simmons comes around from the back to see Lieutenant Katie Jensen at the desk. He froze, but only for a second. Rolling his shoulders back, he swallowed the knot in his throat and walked over to behind the desk. He addressed her with his voice half cracked,

“Jensen.”

She straightened her posture then tilted her head, surprised to see him. With a smile in her voice she spoke with a short laugh,

“Oh hi, Captain Simmons! I didn’t know _you_ were working the armory!”

Simmons approached the desk a little closer and cleared his throat, attempting to talk deeper.

“Yes. *Ahem* Yes. How can I assist you, Lieutenant?”

“I… I’m in need of a new pistol.”

                He shifted his feet hoping to appear more casual.

“Oh. Well, I’m happy to oblige. I’ll need the disabled one back then.”

                Jensen hesitantly places a flattened pistol on the desk top. Simmons exclaims,

“What the…how… this isn’t a pistol! It’s a pancake!”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

She fidgeted her fingers and wrung out her hands as he picked it up to inspect the damage. She could feel her shoulders creeping up until they were level with her ears. If she were a turtle, she would have been hiding a mile deep inside her shell out of embarrassment.  

“How did this even happen?” He said, waving the metal pancake he held in his hand.

“Well, I was on the driving course for my Warthog exercises.”

 “How did you manage to draw your pistol _and_ run it over while driving on the course?”

“I don’t know. These things just happen whenever I drive.”

 He flopped the pistol back onto the desk top and gave her a sarcastic huff through his helmet.

“Well, let me see what I have in the back. I’m sure I can commission you a new, more _durable_ , pistol.”

After some rummaging in the back and some paper work, Simmons was able to give Jensen the pistol she needed. He felt less nervous as time between them went on. Pointing to the line at the bottom of the page,

“Now, just sign here. See? No problem. Nice and easy.”

Scoffing, “Yeah. Easy. Unlike my driving exam. I don’t think I’ll ever pass at this rate.”

It momentarily boggled Simmons’ mind on how a brilliant vehicle maintenance expert, like her, could fix any possible problem with a car, but couldn’t remember how to drive them. Sliding the pistol over to Jensen, Simmons takes the paper work. As she holsters it, he assures her,

“Hey, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Captain Simmons. I’ll try not to.”

She turns to exit the armory. As Simmons watches her leaving, he leans forward on the desk and begins tapping his fingers. He couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of nervousness he had around women, but there was something about Jensen he felt more and more comfortable with each time he saw her. There was a quality to her that he liked. He liked her a lot. He thought to himself: _“Come on, Dick. Let it go. You’re her Captain. This is just a crush. Besides, a relationship in the work place is against regulations. I’m her Captain. Form a relationship only a Captain and Lieutenant can have. Nothing more.”_ Taking a deep breath through his nostrils, he shakes his head vigorously and claps his hand on the desk top. Shivering away his nerves, he found the courage to shout after her,

“Lieutenant! Wait!”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”

“With me? What for?”

“I need to do inventory on the vehicle machine guns and cannons. Maybe… Maybe I can give you a couple pointers… as your Captain, of course.”

Simmons grabs a clipboard and does a light jog to catch up with her. He practically towered over her when he stood right next to her. She was almost a whole head shorter than him. She bashfully looked up from the clipboard that he held to the visor of his helmet.

“What about the armory?”

“Meh. I get a twenty minute break anyways. Besides, there’s no one here.”

She couldn’t hide the giddiness in her voice as she agreed,

“Well then, sure. I wouldn’t mind a couple pointers from you, Sir.”

Sharing a helmet hidden smile, they walk on side by side to the garage where the Warthogs are kept. Approaching one of the vehicles, Simmons asks whether or not it looks like a puma to Jensen. She giggles and doesn’t really understand what he’s talking about. Trying to explain the whole Warthog/Puma conundrum, they hop into one and go to the driving exercise course, unbeknownst to Simmons that Jensen blushed the entire ride there. Upon arriving, Simmons parked in front of a concrete pillar with the idea of practicing how to reverse first. Placing the car in park, he unbuckles,

“Alright,” He confidently started, “let’s switch seats. Come over to the driver side.”

She leaned forward, clenching her hands on top of her knees. She gulped audibly,

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. What if I end up killing you or something?”

“Come on, you’re not _that_ bad. You know your left from your right, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, Sir.”

“Then you’re already off to a great start.” He said with a chuckle.

Looking down at her clenched hands, “I don’t know.”

“As your Captain, I order you to come over to the driver’s seat and just trust me, okay?”

“Well….” She looks up at him then half-heartedly agrees, “Okay, Sir.”

Leaving the keys in the ignition, Simmons climbs out of the driver’s seat as Jensen comes around the back to change positions. Simmons leans against the frame of the car while she subtly looks up at him. Seeing her helmet in the reflection of his visor, she becomes conscience of how close their faces are then directly jumps up behind the wheel. She buckles up as Simmons pulls out his clipboard to begin writing. She tightened her hands into fists, planting them on top of her legs. While Simmons got to filling out the top of his forms, she stole tiny glances of him. She scanned his body up and down taking in his maroon armor and feeling thankful for the cover of her visor. Still filling out the top of the form, he smiled saying,

“You know how to tell time too, right?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Perfect. Begin by putting your hands at 3 and 9 O’clock on the wheel then.”

“That’s not my problem with driving, Sir.” She said slowly raising her hands to the wheel. “It’s usually remembering which pedal does what. As a mechanic, I know everything about them, but when I’m sitting here,” She said bowing her head to look at the driver’s seat between her knees. “I can’t focus. There’s just so many of them.”

Simmons turned to glance at the pedals, then said with an encouraging smile in his voice,

“Yeah, I can understand how they can be a bit daunting. To this day, even Captain Grif can’t tell them apart. Don’t even worry about it, I’m about to walk you through it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jensen gripped the wheel tighter. With his pencil, Simmons pointed to each of the pedals explaining what their functions were.

“Okay, so this one here is the brake. Go ahead and step on it for me.”

Jensen slowly floored the brake, looking to Simmons for approval that she had done it right. With a nod and a laugh,

“See? You’re doing just fine. Ready to trust me?”

Immediately taking her foot off the brake, she delicately whispered, “I…I think so… Sir.”

“Great!” He says, noticing her foot.  “There’s no reason to be scared. Put your foot back on the brake for me and shift the throttle. As long as your foot is down, you’re not going anywhere."

Jensen did as told, feeling slightly uneasy. She thought to herself: “ _See? Not so bad.”_ She could hear her heartbeat pound in her ears. She turned to look at Simmons, who had begun pointing and explaining the other pedals. She followed his pencil for a time until her eyes wandered and noticed how strong his arm looked. It almost looked unnatural, but there was something primal and yet so perfect about it. His voice grew into an echoing pattern that resonated in her mind. The sounds swelled thunderously in her ears until she couldn’t decipher the words anymore. She started blushing underneath her visor, not sure if it was because of her anxiety or something else surfacing within her. She felt a heat on her forehead and her heart beat throbbing in her throat where a knot had formed.

Tapping the pencil to the chin of his helmet, Simmons wondered what else might be worth mentioning about the pedals. Shrugging, he walked along the hood of the car to in front of it. Standing perfectly center with the hood of the Warthog, Simmons scribbles down the license plate number onto his clipboard. Continuing with the lesson while still writing, he stated,

“And then of course, the right most pedal is Go.”

Suddenly, the unrecognizable echoes of Simmons’ voice ceased and narrowed into a loud, firm GO. Snapping herself from her daydream, Jensen quickly lifted the brake and floored the acceleration. The tires of the car screeched as they momentarily skid in place. Then, with a slight fish tail from the back end of the vehicle, the tires met the asphalt propelling the car forward. Simmons shot straight off his feet as the hood of the Warthog pinned him helplessly against the concrete pillar. The impact of the car crushed the left side of his armor into his rib cage, driving his elbow and arm into himself. Releasing his clipboard, Simmons brought up his right hand to try and pry himself out. With Jensen’s foot still flooring the acceleration, rubber began burning and smoking from the back tires. She immediately fell into an extreme panic. She cried out,

“I’M SORRY! I’m so sorry! I don’t- I don’t know what to do!!! What do I do?!? I’m so sorry, Sir! I just-”

“Lieutenant!” Simmons groaned.

“I don’t know what to do! I don’t know!” She cried frantically.

Just then, one of Simmons’ pins in his armor collapsed, crushing into him further. His heartbeat quickened and his mouth felt suddenly dry as he grew closer to the pillar. Bringing his right hand up from the hood of the car, he slammed it against the concrete attempting to push away from it. In that moment, he felt heat against his side. Fire. Somehow, his circuits must have crossed, causing a spark that ignited his damaged armor. His eyes widened in a slight panic. Being a man who plans ahead, he had placed a small fire extinguisher in his right forearm. The only problem was he couldn’t reach the pin with his left hand. He could have pulled it with his mouth, but he couldn’t risk bringing his hand down from the pillar to remove his helmet. Grunting and breathing heavily, he shouted over the roaring tires,

“Lieutenant!”

 “I don’t know! I just-”

“Hold on! Look at me!”

Jensen squeezed her eyes shut and wailed loudly. She couldn’t hear her own thoughts over the revving of the engine and the screaming of the back tires. Panicked. She was truly panicking as her tears spat from her eyes onto the inside of her helmet.

“KATIE!!! Look at me!!!”

Jensen shot up her head at the sound of her name. Taking a big gulp, Simmons summoned a bigger, more commanding voice within him and shouted to her,

“Katie, listen to my voice! Like I showed you before. Brake. Throttle. Gas.” His voice strained from the pressure. “You hear me?!? BRAKE! THROTTLE! GAS! DO IT NOW!”

She looked down at the throttle noticing the R for Reverse. Tightening her lips into a firm narrow line, she quickly brought her foot up, thrusted the gear shifter forward and hit the gas. As the Warthog screeched backwards, Simmons dropped to the floor on his knees. Almost whimpering, he pulled the tab on his right wrist, exposing the extinguisher. Pointing it to the left side of his armor, he doused the fire, patting it as he soaked himself in foam. Whirling the Warthog around in a half circle, Jensen came to a vicious stop. With sweat and tears mingling on her forehead and cheeks, she threw the throttle forward into park and ripped the keys from the ignition. Though her hands shook immensely, she stripped the buckle from herself and rolled out of the car, throwing the keys aside. She ran to Simmons, shouting,

 “Sir? Sir! Are you alright!”

He huffed in amazement that he wasn’t dead. Holding his left side tightly with his right hand he looked up to Jensen running towards him and wheezed,

“Yes. Yes, I think I am.”

Bringing Simmons carefully to his feet, she inspected his left side, which to her abrupt surprise was completely mechanical. Her eye brows rose slowly while her nostrils slightly flared at the sight of it. She calmed her breath and directed her attention to a nearby bench. Huffing nervously, she gently threw Simmons’ arm over her shoulder and led him towards it. He couldn’t catch his breath, but he quietly laughed between gasps as Jensen dragged him along. She cocked and eye brow at him, plopping him down onto the bench, where he slumped back into the concrete wall behind him. He coughed and tilted his head back, bouncing his helmet against the wall. His chest heaved up and down as his breath fogged the inside of his visor. Everything was blurry. He wasn’t sure if it was from the adrenaline running through his blood or just his breath glossing the inside of his helmet. He could feel the sweat drip down his scalp onto his brow and couldn’t help but wear a big goofy smile across his face as he huffed another nervous chuckle. Jensen stood over him with a confused expression. She wondered if she had broken him, not just in body, but in mind. Idly bringing his head forward, he sniffed loudly. In his labored breath, he whispered,  

“Excuse me, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I have to break protocol to remove my helmet. I can’t breathe.”

Immediately Jensen nodded in agreement, “Of course, Sir.”

Simmons brought up his right hand to remove his helmet, but found difficulty in doing so. Jensen took a step forward lowering his arm.

“Allow me, Sir.”

With a nod of approval, he sat up as straight as he could. Placing her hands on both cheeks of his helmet she slowly brought it up over his chin, then his nose. As she raised it further, her eyes shook, but then quickly refocused them onto his visor and not his face. She had no idea that the left half of his face and body had been replaced with machinery. Tucking the helmet under her arm she drew in a long steadying breath.

“Are you hurt, Sir? What can I do?”

He huffed a laugh, but still couldn’t catch his breath. His heart pounded as if he had just run a marathon.

“No. I’m okay. We got lucky. You hit the parts of me that _weren’t_ me.”

Jensen felt the urge to smile with relief, but didn’t as her stomach turned looking over his face once again. Biting her lip, she worked up the courage to ask,

“How… what happened?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighed.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he shut his eyes. Jensen slowly sat down on the bench next to him putting his helmet between them. His nostrils danced as he attempted to breathe normally. She stole a few looks at his left side while his eyes were closed. She feared the thought of being caught staring too much and being considered rude. Trying to keep her nerve, she rubbed her upper lip against her braces then asked,

“So… you’re not hurt?”

He peeked his eyes open towards her.

“Hm? No. I’m fine. Any longer though and my lung might have collapsed.”

He took a moment to really look at Jensen, hoping to make the situation a little more comical.

“My _actual_ lung. _That_ would have been a real problem.”

 He rolled his right shoulder back in a circle a few times then tilted his head sideways cracking his neck. Jensen watched as he rotated his wrist to make sure it wasn’t broken, then hung her head. With a heavy sigh, she whispered,

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Sir. It was unprofessional of me to panic as I did.”

                Screwing her eyes shut, she fought back her tears. She could feel him looking down at her. She continued quietly,

“I completely understand if you want to report this. I definitely would. I’m just… I’m just so sorry, Sir.”

                He was indeed looking down at her, but not in an angry sort of way. His eye brows creased together feeling sorry for her. What she did _was_ unprofessional, but it was only a lesson after all. He assured her,

“Hey hey hey, don’t worry about this. The car has no damage, and _this_ ” he said waving his hand at his left side, “ _this_ is fixable. I’m not worried, Lieutenant. I’m proud of you.”

                 She stood up quickly facing him. Flailing her arms outward to the side, she exclaimed,

“Proud?!? Is that what you said? Captain Simmons, how hard did I hit you?”

                He shifted in his seat turning a bit towards her. Putting a hand on his chest, he calmly restated,

“No, no, no, really. I _am_ proud of you. Think about it. You reversed, parked _and_ killed the ignition in a heated situation. No pun intended.” He snorted referring to his left side. “Not only that, but you assisted an injured soldier on top of it. That’s definitely worth passing you in my book.”

                Jensen couldn’t believe her ears. Still holding her tears back, she let out a stiff sigh,

“So… you won’t report me then?”

“No. I won’t.”

He gave her a tender smile then looked down at his side. Now that the fire foam had officially slid off, Simmons lifted up his mangled left arm to inspect the damage. Clicking his tongue in disfavor, he shook his head. The black under suit had frayed into burnt fringe ribbons. Putting his left arm back down, he leaned to his right and planted his hand on top of his leg. He said clearing his throat,

“I need your help, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Sir?”

 “I need you to help me remove my shoulder and chest plates. The sooner I get this black stuff off of my clockwork, the better.”

She gave him a firm nod. “Of course, Sir.”  

“Enough with the ‘Sirs’ for now.” He said waving his hand lightly. He spoke in a delicate, hushed timbre of his voice, “We’re done training for the day. Protocol and formalities take up too much time. Though important, let’s set them aside for now. No one is here anyways. May I refer to you as Katie, Lieutenant, or would you prefer to continue with the appropriate terminology?”

Katie blushed, but tried to remain level headed. Rolling her lips through her front teeth, she stuttered, “I-I don’t mind at all, Sir. I mean, Captain. I mean, um-”

“Richard. Call me Dick.”

“Oh. Richard. Yes, Sir. Uh… Dick.”

Simmons chuckled then thought to himself: _“So much for the whole Captain/Lieutenant approach.”_ Katie rolled her shoulders back, mentally preparing herself for the robot part of him she was about to see. Stepping closer to him she gently brought up his left arm.

“Here,” He said reaching for it “I can do this part. Get the buckles on my shoulders.”

“Sure.”

Simmons began unfastening his gauntlet as she carefully unbuckled the chest plate that connected to the armor tracing down his back. She momentarily changed her stance to unlock the buckles on his other shoulder. As the chest piece fell to the floor, Simmons hunched his shoulders to his ears then rolled his head around in a wide circle. Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck,

“Whew! See? Already getting better. Alright, would you be so kind as to undo the back?”

She nodded as he turned on the bench, putting his back to her. He spread his shoulders and bowed his head forward to make the suit taut, then continued removing the armor on his wrist. She twiddled her fingers and hesitated touching him. She thought to herself: “ _Calm down, Katie. It’s okay. As of right now, he is not your Captain. This is just a friend helping a friend. Friendlily.”_ She started at the base of his neck, unpinning his under suit from the top down. She felt blood rush to her cheeks a little until Simmons reached up to peel the suit down his left shoulder. The heat flushed away from her face and the tips of her fingers grew cold as she watched on. She didn’t want to believe her eyes. Simmons had put it mildly when he referred to his left side as clockwork. Thick silver and black plates of metal encased circuits and wires that ran down his twisted left arm all the way to his fingertips.  There were strong metal pins that lay flush in his skin on the side of his neck and throat. She stared at the gears that still clicked and turned as he uncovered his elbow. He started flicking singed pieces of the black under suit off of his doused wires when he curiously half turned his head back,

“Katie? Keep going. We almost have it off.”

Katie shook herself. She didn’t even notice that she had stopped unfastening. She continued at his mid back, just between his shoulder blades. She shook herself again, wiggling her head. “ _Friendly. This is just friendly. No formalities.”_

“Hold on a sec.” She said with a light grunt as she twisted and lifted up her helmet.

Putting it on the bench behind him, she gave her eyes a good hard rub. From her eyes, she threw her hands down at her sides, as if standing at attention. She gave a harsh huff and took long hard blinks at his back. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she rolled one shoulder back and exhaled sharply.  She continued to unfasten. Once at his waist, she meekly asked, “How’s that?”

Simmons hadn’t been paying her nearly as much attention as she had been paying him. He was occupied with pealing the singed bits of under suit that still polluted his broken ribs.

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, perfect. Could you help me peal down my right side, ‘cause ya know,” he said lifting his mangled left arm “ _this_.”

“Sure.”

She began rolling his under suit, starting at his neck. As she folded it over his shoulder, she gave a light sigh of relief that it was only his left side that had “clockwork”, as he called it. He straightened his arm out to help keep the material taut for her to pull off. As she continued, the suit rolled up in a weird fashion that made it harder and harder to pull. She huffed,

“Wait. Here, put your arm out straight in front of you. That might make it easier.”

Simmons turned on the bench, facing straight again, then held out his arm in front of him. Blowing up at her bangs, Katie shifted her feet, bringing herself to face him. Bending her knees slightly, she grounded herself and persisted to pull. Simmons noticed her technique of rolling instead of just pealing it off.  He laughed,

“Heh! It doesn’t have to be neat or anything. At this point, pealing would be faster than roll-”

That’s when Simmons looked up at her and found his words sticking in the back of his throat. He didn’t even realize that she had removed her helmet. His mouth gaped open for a moment as he admired her light brown hair that was tied up tight in a bun and her hazel-blue eyes. Katie brought a foot up on the bench, trying to gain some sort of edge against her vain struggle.

“Hey!”

His voice was a little louder than it should have been. Katie immediately looked up from what she was doing. They were just inches away from each other. Face to face. His eyes flicked back and forth from both of her’s. She saw herself in the gleam of his eyes then became suddenly conscience that her mouth was slightly open. She slowly turned her head sideways, a bit confused and slightly uncomfortable. She whispered,

“Uh…Dick?”

“Sorry, I just…”

                A pause passed between them, then he started with a chuckle,

“I just never knew you had freckles.”

A little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Before she had time to blush, she tipped her face down, replanted her boot and gave a couple more jolting pulls to get the under suit passed his fingertips. Simmons found himself slipping into a daydream-like mood of exhaustion and relaxation. The way Katie made him feel was unlike anything he had ever felt. He liked her. God, did he like her. She embodied a sense of home to him. Something that entranced him and made him want to stay a little longer. To hell with the formalities. They were at last alone together, which is something they both secretly dreaded and longingly hoped for. Stepping back from him, she brushed her hands back and forth, as if patting off dirt. She smiled timidly at the half burned under suit that draped over his lap from his waist. Planting her hands on her hips, she sighed,

“Whew! Alrighty then. What now, Dick?”

He liked his name in her voice. He half blinked then opened his mouth to talk to her. Just… talk to her. He wanted to say something, anything that would start a casual conversation between them. He was done trying to be her Captain. He wanted to be her friend and hopefully more in time. But what does one say when starting such a process. Saying “Hi” would be stupid and saying “Let’s get some lunch” would be illogical with his left arm oozing grease and oil. But Simmons didn’t have another chance to speak before he heard the roaring growl of Sarge.

“Simmons!” He commanded.

Both Simmons and Jensen looked up wildly. Their sweet moment together had instantly passed as Sarge, Grif and Dr. Grey came through the door into the driving range.  Almost marching, Sarge approached the bench where Simmons was sitting.

“Simmons! Why aren’t you in the Armory? What kind of a Captain abandons his post?”

“Wait, Sir.” Jensen started as she waved her hands and shook her head, “This is my fault. I’m the one who-”

“Great Scott! What happened to my handy work?!”

Jensen blinked for a second until she figured out what Sarge meant by his handy work. Gulping down the lump in her throat, she spoke up again,

“Please, Sir. Just let me explain. I’m so sorry.”

About to cry her heart out over her discovered embarrassment, her words came to a halt as Simmons touched her arm, pushing her slightly aside. Standing tall with half of his under suit hanging from his waist, he shrugged,

“Sorry about the armory, Sarge. I got occupied. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn straight!” Sarge barked. “Now what in Sam Hill happened?”

“Ooh! My my my!” Dr. Grey said, pushing through Sarge and Grif. “What have we here?”

Jensen felt slightly defensive. Dr. Grey swooped in and began circling Simmons like a vulture. Jensen’s face turned red with anger and confusion, thinking Dr. Grey only gawked over Simmons because he was half naked, but then she shortly realized it was only the machinery the doctor cared about. Dr. Grey buzzed with an ecstatic energy.

“What on Earth happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” Grif said gruffly. “Trust me. You don’t wanna hear it.”

“I _do_ want to hear it.” Dr. Grey defended. “Tell me every little detail. Of the incident, of the operation, of what you felt, how you feel now and anything and everything you can recall.” She chirped.  “Sorry if I’m talking too fast. Am I talking too fast? Are there any short term and/or long term side effects?”

Simmons climbed to his tip toes as she grew closer and closer to his face inspecting his mechanisms. Hesitantly he stuttered,

“Well, I uh… *Ahem* I tend to shoot myself in the foot once and a while, but that’s been all.”

“I would _love_ to analyze you immediately!” She squealed in a high register of her voice.

“Hands off, Missy.” Sarge butted in. “I need to piece him back together, pronto. I’ve been reassigned a new mission. I leave in two days with Aqua Man and Agent Carolina, so leave it to me.”

“Oh!” Dr. Grey said in her usual giddy voice. “I would _love_ to observe then.”

“Nerds.” Grif drawled under his breath.

Grif turned and leisurely lead the way while Sarge and Dr. Grey began herding Simmons towards the door talking about schematics. Katie spun around to grab his helmet from the bench, but by the time she turned back, they were gone. She opened her mouth to call after them, but held her breath and decided not to. Dropping her weight down onto the bench, she let out a long, drawn out sigh. She held Simmons’ helmet between her hands and leaned forward onto her knees. She saw her reflection in his visor and recalled how close their faces were when she looked up and saw her reflection in his eyes. “ _A kiss would have been so easy_.” she thought to herself. Scoffing in disbelief, she planted her left palm to her forehead and let the helmet hang from her right finger tips.

“Yeah, Katie. Like _that’ll_ ever happen.”

Combing her bangs up through her fingers; she shook her head and whispered,

“You are such an idiot.”

End Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first official Fan Fiction! I was super nervous to post it, but I hope you liked it! There's more where this came from, including more action on the Simmons and Jensen relationship. I hope to be posting more soon. If you wish to leave a comment, please write with positive, encouraging vibes! Thanks again! Peace!


End file.
